


fortune told for free

by limit_breaker



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Fortune Telling, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, fortune teller AU???, hand wave-y space magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 08:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12813591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limit_breaker/pseuds/limit_breaker
Summary: Armitage Hux is here for information. Information only Kylo Ren can supply. It may come at a price.(AU where everything is the same except Kylo Ren is a fortune teller.)





	fortune told for free

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo... I walk through this underground alley of fortune tellers almost every day and almost every day I spend that walk thinking about how to turn it into a Kylux AU so... idfk, that's my excuse for the nonsense this time. :')
> 
> Full disclosure: I made up all the pseudoscience in here based on, like, 5 minutes of wikipediaing palmistry. Lord forbid someone actually takes me seriously.

_==_

 

_\--I've heard he can move things with his mind._

_\--I've heard he knows who you are and what you want even before you speak._

_\--I've heard his temper is like a solar flare. Unpredictable. Devastating._

_\--But, worth it for the knowledge he can provide, no?_

_\--He can tell you anything. Anything you might want or need to know._

_\--Surely it must come at a price?_

_\--Of course..._

 

Bits of gossip he's caught over the years drift through the mind of Lieutenant Armitage Hux as he stands before his destination: a small, darkened shop in a narrow, darkened alley. The shop front reads "Kylo Ren, Master Fortune Teller" and Hux is hesitating outside, hidden in the shadows cast by the failing neon lights, hoping he hasn't been noticed.

 _This is fucking stupid_ , he thinks to himself.

He's long heard rumors and stories of Kylo Ren's supposed powers, mostly from the grimy sorts of half-mad drunks and junkies that haunt the bars, and gutters, of the remote side of the galaxy where he's been stationed for the last several months, and now here he is at Ren’s doorstep, dressed in civilian attire, reminding himself of the cover story that he's concocted on the off-chance he's confronted about this trek to the unsavory edge of the planet’s largest metropolis: He's taken it upon himself to investigate these rumors, to find out who this mysterious Kylo Ren is and, if he must, put an end to this mysticism that threatens the authority of the First Order. If enough people start believing in this malarkey, it could undermine their entire operation.

But, in reality, Hux's reason for being here is much simpler. He's curious.

He's heard enough of these stories over time that this curiosity has finally gotten the better of him.

He wants information of his own.

Still not one to put much stock in faith, Hux has assured himself that whether the information he receives will be based in truth or conjecture need not concern him; there are many types of information and sometimes strict facts are not the most useful sort of intelligence. Sometimes a truth can be divined more clearly from _why_ something was said rather than _what_ was actually said, and he's curious to hear what someone has to say about him, as well as why. Tarot cards, star positioning, the lines on his hands… this is all rubbish, but he can use his natural-born intellect to fill in the gaps later.

All of this is neither here nor there, however. He’s getting nowhere on either his undercover investigation or his quest for knowledge by standing outside in this damp alleyway, so he needs to just get on with it already. He's not nervous. He has no reason to be, he doesn't believe in this nonsense anyway. He squares his shoulders, sucks in a deep breath, and steps briefly into the light cast by the flickering neon sign as he slides open the door.

A small bell announces his presence as he crosses the threshold and slides the door shut behind him. It's not a big space and the amount of clutter around only serves to make it seem smaller. He glances around the room. He doesn't want to give the impression to anyone or anything that may be monitoring that he is in the least bit anxious or curious as much as simply being prudent in taking in his surroundings, so he does so with an air of disdain.

The room is dimly lit by a few hanging lamps made from some sort of crystal, one is crimson red, another deep green, two smaller ones are either black or a dark purplish-blue. Several candles sit burning on various surfaces, as well, but these seem to be more for atmospheric mood setting than actual lighting, something which irritates Hux. He can appreciate the importance of setting the right tone, of course. It’s just that this tone annoys him, that's all. Perhaps this Kylo Ren thinks it gives his shop a spooky or mysterious vibe, but Hux finds it pretentious.

Putting aside these observations, he continues his survey, his eyes adjusting better to the weak lighting. The walls of this place are chaotic, adorned in various maps and old tapestries with scripts that Hux can't identify, much less read. Somewhere on one of the dozens of shelves Ren must be burning incense because the air around the lamps is hazy and the whole place smells of myrrh. Hux remembers this scent from a funeral ceremony he attended once a long time ago on a planet far from here.

There is a rustling sound and Hux turns to see a young man pushing aside a beaded curtain that leads to what must be the back room. The man says nothing as he enters the room, but when he lifts his face to meet Hux's eyes, his gaze is piercing, rooting Hux to the spot. Hux has never been one to shy away from attention, but something about the way he’s being studied is unsettling. Like this man isn’t looking _at_ him, but into him, slowing the passage of time as he does so.

Hux tries not to let it ruffle him, using every lesson in stoicism he's perfected over the years to keep his expression impassive, hard. The man's face is partially concealed by his shoulder-length, thick hair that hangs in curls and the occasional jewel-adorned braid. From what Hux can make out, his skin is pale, even paler than his own, and in sharp contrast to the darkness of his hair and eyes. As if sensing Hux's scrutiny and rising to challenge it, the man brushes his hair from his face as he walks closer.

Hux straightens his posture. "I'm looking for Master Ren," he says.

"Then you have succeeded."

This surprises Hux, who didn’t realize until just now that he had actually been picturing a much older, frailer oracle, one that was perhaps less slightly human than the striking young man standing before him. "You are Kylo Ren? You run this..." Hux looks around at the various collection of oddities and junk. "Place?"

Ren, who seems smugly amused by Hux's shock, smirks. "I am, and I do. My grandfather established this business," he says, turning his attention to a disfigured, crumpled sort of sculpture on a shelf near the back door. "When he crossed over, my mother and uncle tried to sell it. As if it were nothing. As if he hadn't been a master of his craft who had dedicated his entire life to this art form," Ren lets his words hang for a beat before turning back to Hux. "I took over this shop to continue his legacy."

"Is that so." Hux nods, not particularly interested in the troubled family politics of a strange man he's only just met. But it establishes that this is, indeed, Kylo Ren: famed fortune teller, revered by some, feared by most. Hux cannot see why on either account.

For a long moment Ren goes on staring at Hux. Hux doesn't like it, and decides he’s already seen enough. Enough of the flare, the gaudy décor, enough of that fucking relentless stare. He doesn’t need information that badly. It had been a stupid idea, anyway. He’s about to open his mouth to speak, to sabotage his own quest for knowledge and instead inform Mr. Ren, if that is his real name, that he is running an illegal business that threatens to undermine the authority of the First Order. Just before he does, however, the mystic blinks and tilts his head. "You are going to tell me why you are here."

Hux reaches into his pocket to procure his First Order identification badge, ready to launch into the speech he’d prepared in case it came to this, but again Ren speaks before Hux can get a word out: "Please, though,” he says, “spare me the lies about this being any official business. I know no one has sent you. You have sought me out of your own volition, seeking information only I can provide."

Hux falters. His fingers freeze within his pocket and his mouth hangs slack as tries to think of a way to salvage this.

Ren smirks again. "Sit," he says, with at least the decency to look down and stop gawking at Hux.

As Hux pulls himself together, Ren sits himself cross-legged on a small pillow on the floor behind a short table adorned with various crystals and orbs. He motions for Hux to sit opposite him, his tattered black shawl draping down from his broad shoulders as he points to the cushion. “Sit,” he says again. "Be my guest."

Hux grimaces inwardly, wishing for a chair or something proper to sit on, and considers just saving himself the embarrassment by leaving, but somehow running away now would make this whole display even worse, so he accepts this fate and deigns to take a seat cross-legged atop Ren's accursed cushion. It feels weird, foreign, to be sitting on the floor like this but what did he expect when he came to this gritty alleyway seeking the counsel of a man who claims to see the future?

"So." Ren says, pushing some of the clutter from the table to make space for his giant forearms to rest on the glass top. From the corner of his eyes, Hux watches a couple small marbles roll away, under another small stand covered in more trinkets and curios, a deck of cards, a globe of a planet Hux doesn't recognize. "You're here for a reading."

Hux doesn't like the way Ren's gaze is boring into him again, as if inspecting, trying to see him from the inside out. He wonders if Ren gawks at everyone this way. Probably, if those rumors of his ferocity hold any merit, though surely this persistent, penetrating, unsettling stare would have been more noteworthy. He won't let Ren sense his discomfort, though. It's not fear, anyway. The only thing he's afraid of is that someone might find him here in the presence of an alleged soothsayer and believe that Hux actually puts any stock in this sort of utter bollocks. "Yes."

"A palm reading?"

Hux tilts his chin up slightly to give the impression he's looking down his nose at the man. "Yes, I suppose, if that is indeed your specialty."

"It is, in fact. But I hope you know you can't keep your gloves on for that." Ren says, finding himself clever, probably. His smug grin suggests as much.

Not for the first time, Hux seriously entertains the idea of simply walking out, but doing so would likely only further amuse this overgrown child and he’s already come this far, so he presses his lips and narrows his eyes. "Naturally."

"Well then, shall we proceed?"

"Shall we discuss payment first or after?"

"I sense you are someone who wishes to see results before discussing payment."

"Indeed I am."

That smug grin is still lingering on Ren's lips. Arrogant prick. "In that case, give me your hand."

Ren extends his hand, expectant. He wears rings on three of his right hand's fingers, five silver bands, one with some sort of cracked red gemstone set into it that draws Hux's attention as if it has a life of its own. His left hand is adorned similarly, but it lacks the crystal-bearing ring of the right.

Hux strips the glove from his dominant hand and offers his palm out to the fortune teller, who stares at it just a moment before reaching over to take it. The man's hands are large, stupidly so, Hux thinks as they envelop his own; he'd be better suited for combat, not mysticism, but they're also remarkably soft, warm. Or maybe it's just been too long since Hux has laid his ungloved hand in someone else's. Anyway, it's not important. Hux frowns and looks away, pushing the thought from his mind.

As his palm is assessed, Hux's eyes wander around the room and eventually settle back on Ren's face, easier to look at now that he's gawking at Hux. Each of Ren's features is as mismatched as the next; weak jaw, big nose, bigger ears, dark marks flecked here and there, those crooked lips that remain stuck enigmatically between a scowl and a grin. He is not what Hux would consider handsome in any sort of conventional way, but his odd look seems to suit his odd persona and that, Hux can appreciate. Ren's brow knits as he concentrates, pouting. Hux feels his gut tighten and he wonders what it means that Ren is frowning now, then he catches himself. It means nothing. This whole exercise means nothing. Fortune telling is nothing more than pseudoscience. Superstition. Why did he even come here? It’s embarrassing.

"Well, are you going to tell me anything or are you content in wasting both of our times?" He scoffs, attempting to displace his shame but looking away from Ren’s face and down at his own hand.

"Patience," Ren murmurs as he continues to study Hux's palm, fingers lightly tracing the lines and folds. Hux eyes him again, telling himself it still means nothing when Ren sucks in a sharp breath and gapes wild-eyed at his hand.

"No," Ren breathes. He drops Hux’s hand and stands at once, whirling around and facing away, fists clenched as if he's barely restraining himself from smashing the obsidian vases lining the shelf in front of him. Hux watches Ren inhale deeply, shoulders pinched up to his ears, and place his hands delicately on the shelf, bracing himself. "Him?" He hears Ren whisper.

Hux clenches his jaw in annoyance. Ren turns his cheek ever so slightly to speak to Hux over his shoulder, his eyes still averted. "You. Why are you really here?"

The crease in Hux's brow deepens. "I already told you I came for a reading," he grits out, hating that he's being forced to admit this again.

"No," Ren says, turning around fully to face Hux. "Why have you come to _me_ , specifically? There are dozens of other fortune tellers on this block. You don’t believe in the craft anyway, what difference would it have made?"

Hux grinds his teeth together before answering. "I've heard rumours. That you are the best in business."

Ren considers the response for a long moment, then gives a half-smile, relaxing slightly. "And you settle for nothing but. Of course."

Hux declines to comment, but for some reason, his answer has seemed to appease Ren, who exhales deeply and settles back onto his cushion on the floor.

"You might not like what I am about to tell you."

"You've told me exactly nothing so far, I can't decide if that's better or worse."

"Do you wish to find out?"

Hux sneers. "Go on, then. Prove yourself worthy of all that praise those drunkards and scoundrels seem to award you."

Ren snorts, rolling his eyes. Hux offers him his hand again and Ren takes it, steeling himself with another deep breath before returning to his study.

Hux flicks his eyes from Ren's face to his own hand and back again, waiting for him to say something more, to explain himself, but Ren's brow is knit and he's once more lost in concentration. Hux squares his jaw and tells himself that his heart is not beating any faster than usual, that he's imagining the unsettled feeling creeping up inside him. Melodrama. That's all this is. He swallows and looks away, eyes landing on a map of a star system far from here. It's a sector of the Outer Rim. One system seems to be circled, another, smaller circle is inside this one, but it's too far to make out in this dim lighting, though Hux squints hard, trying to make sense of the scratchy, scrawled notes that look written on it.

Suddenly, finally, Ren speaks and Hux's attention snaps back. "This one," Ren says as his long middle finger drags softly along an arched line beginning at Hux's wrist to halfway up his palm. "Is your life line." His brow is still creased and he bites his lower lip, which shouldn't make Hux nervous, but it does regardless. "Yours is deep. These smaller lines that spread out from it suggest you will have a lasting impact on many. I've never seen someone with this many before."

Despite himself, the corner of Hux's lips twitch upward at the idea that he'll be so influential. "Do go on," he says, the words lacking the sarcastic bite he had intended them to carry.

"It's short, however. Your life line."

Hux’s amusement goes as quickly as it came. He doesn’t like the ominous sound of that. And there he goes again, actually assigning value to this rubbish. He shakes his head. So some line on his hand is short. Big deal. It has no bearing on his actual life, he reminds himself. He's just here to gather intelligence, not to actually fall for any of this trickery.

Ren thumbs the small, thick scar that cuts across the heel of Hux's palm, a wound from a blaster misfire years ago. He'd spent several painful hours in operation, having droids repair the damaged ligaments. He'd needed 13 stitches. His father hadn't been impressed. "You're lucky this doesn't cross your life line," Ren says. "Just barely missed it." Indeed, if Hux had been holding the blaster any differently, he would have been killed instantly.

He suppresses the urge to shiver as Ren runs the pad of his thumb down other grooves in his palm and murmurs something about Hux having family trouble. Hux has less than no desire to discuss that with Ren, so he says nothing and tries to think nothing of the soft press of Ren's fingers against his own. There's something uncomfortably... intimate about the gesture. As if it's meant to not only assess, but assure. The temptation to snatch his hand back and flee is powerful, but doing so would only demonstrate apprehension and something to hide, and Hux refuses to give in to that. His eyebrows pinch together and he grows impatient waiting for Ren to continue this asinine assessment.

"This one," says Ren, now tracing his finger over a thick crease that starts from one side of Hux's hand and stretches horizontally across, arcing up to the space between his first and second fingers. "Represents wisdom and thought. I suppose you don't need me to tell you that you're analytical, decisive, and strategy-oriented, to an almost infuriating degree."

"No," Hux drawls. "I suppose I don't need you to tell me that."

Undeterred, Ren ignores this and continues. "And this one," he says, touching a jagged crevasse that runs mostly parallel to the one Ren called 'representative of wisdom' before curving downwards sharply to follow along another line Ren has yet to define. "Is your heart line.” He licks his lip and traces it over again. “It is telling of your love life."

At this, Hux is unable to repress his contempt. "I didn't come to have my love life analysed," he snaps.

He makes to jerk his hand from Ren's grip but, as if Ren had predicted this move, he tightens his grip of Hux’s hand, long fingers enveloping Hux's completely. If Hux hadn't liked the intimacy of his palms being traced with a touch light enough to be considered a caress, he definitely doesn't like that Kylo Ren is now _holding_ his hand. He snaps his eyes back to the man's face, his upper lip curling. Ren's eyes have grown somehow darker beneath their creased brow.

"No," Ren speaks, low and dangerous, "you didn’t. You came here to discuss your _professional_ life." He says it mockingly, as if it were the most disinteresting, frivolous topic Hux could concern himself with. As if reading such a topic is beneath him.

Hux swallows. It's not untrue, that is what he most wanted to have clarified, but he's certain he never said that to Kylo Ren.

They remain locked in a stare for several tense moments. Hux finds it distasteful that this self-important hack dares to scowl at him like this when, as he had rightly said before, Hux could just as easily take his business elsewhere. Or nowhere. It's not like fortune telling is a profession to be proud of. Apparently even Ren’s own family wanted to be rid of the association to the art.

Eventually, Hux speaks: "So what if I did?"

"So simple,” Ren scoffs with the utmost disdain. “You think it's just a ladder-climbing exercise to the top.”

Hux can feel his own expression darken in kind. "Are you suggesting it's not?"

He's met with a hard glare from Kylo Ren. Gradually, the crushing grip on Hux's fingers slackens and Hux exhales slowly. The back of his hand is resting lightly in Ren's palm, but he makes no attempt to move it.

"Not for you, it won't be."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

After another moment's stare, Ren casts his eyes downward, unfocused. He licks his lips again and runs his thumb along the last major line, the one that is joined by the one Ren had said was indicative of his love life. "This one here is called the career line." He rests the pad of his finger on the convergence point of the two creases. "Yours is connected to your heart line."

Hux frowns. "That seems most unwise."

"On the contrary," Ren replies. "This connection strengthens both."

Hux sneers anew. "I've had enough of this," he snaps, managing to rip his hand free from Ren's this time. "I've no patience for this nonsense. You are telling me nothing of value. This is a complete waste of my time."

He rises, annoyed, though he can't say if he's more annoyed with this charlatan or with himself. After all, what did he expect would happen? Giving in to base curiosity and superstition instead of actually putting in the work to ensure his goals were reached... what would his father say if he knew Hux was here, so insecure of his own fate that he's resorted to having his fucking fortune told by some loony mystic with a flare for the dramatic? Turning on his heel, he marches towards the door, furious, flustered, and somehow insulted.

"There is the discussion of payment," Ren calls after him, calm yet firm.

"Payment?" Hux practically shouts, unable or unwilling to believe this fool, fleetingly accurate though he may be, is actually going to suggest payment for a few trivial sentences that could be applicable to just about anyone. He spins around. "You've told me nothing of use! If anything you ought to be compensating me for the time I've wasted in your presence."

He notices Ren's eyes darken, his face poorly masking the rage bubbling through to the surface. His hands are fisted tightly atop his table. "You want me to tell you what I see in your future? So simple-minded. So naïve. It would be all too easy for me to tell you what I foresee, but I can do so much more than that."

"What are you talking about?” Hux snaps. “Stop speaking in these ambiguous riddles and mystical babble. I have no patience for such theatrics.”

"Theatrics." Ren smiles at that. An unnerving thing, his smile. "I'll show you theatrics."

In one fluid motion, Kylo Ren stands. "You really want to know about your _career_ , Lieutenant Hux?" Hux's blood runs cold. He hadn't told him his rank. Much less his name. Aside from the badge which has remained hidden in his pocket, he'd made sure not to wear anything that might give away his First Order allegiance. "Lieutenant Armitage Hux, wants to be a big military man just like the father who never loved him." Kylo says it plainly enough, but the nature of what he's saying makes it sound exceptionally cruel.

Hux's lips slowly curl into a sneer. "How do you know who I am?"

"Have you forgotten what I am? I see it. I see it all in you." With his absurdly long legs, Kylo Ren easily steps over the short table separating him from Hux. Hux has been torn between digging in and running away this entire time, but never has he wanted to flee as much as he does as Ren draws closer-- never has he felt as trapped, unable to, either.

"You seek validation."

Hux straightens, balling his fists at his sides, but he doesn't respond. Kylo Ren is standing directly in front of him now, his eyes scanning every facet of Hux’s face.

"You came here to find out if you will indeed surpass your father's meek expectations of you," Ren says, and Hux feels his chest constrict. "I could tell you that,” he continues, “and it could be the truth. But it doesn't necessarily beget satisfaction. You could become emperor and still not satisfy him. You will never earn his favor, Armitage."

Hux swallows, the truth of it all hitting him like the weight of a dying star. He wants to push Ren away, tell him he doesn't know what he's talking about so he ought to shut the hell up, but. Somehow. Ren does know. All too well.

"You could still prove him wrong about you, however." Ren says, punctuating the heavy silence that stretches on between them.

In lieu of a verbal response, Hux narrows his eyes at Ren.

"You will. You will outrank him, outshine him in every way. You will become General of the First Order, armies at your command, superweapons charged and ready for your dismissal. And after the war is over and the ashes settled, you will rise as Emperor of the United Galaxy, just as you've always believed was your destiny."

"How do you," Hux begins, not liking how quiet his voice has become, nor how well Ren has seen directly into his deepest, most concealed fears and desires, laying them bare, exposed between them. He swallows again and tries rephrasing. "You've certainly done your homework."

The corner of Kylo's mouth twitches upwards. "I have many talents, it’s true," he says, casting his gaze down, almost demure now.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you'd been expecting me," Hux says, aware that he doesn't actually know better, and in fact he's racking his paranoia-prone brain now trying to think of any possible way he could have been tracked here, traced, or how Kylo Ren could have possibly known all of these damnable things about him.

"Indeed, I have been," Ren says in such a matter-of-fact tone that it sends a fresh rush of cold fear through Hux's veins when he looks up at him again. "But it's not what you might think."

Hux squares his shoulders, willing his spiralling anxiety to still. "Explain."

"I have foreseen this," Ren says, his eyes locked on Hux's. "I didn't know who, and I didn't know when, but I knew someone would come. And it's you." His brows pinch together as if he's trying to make sense of it the same way Hux is. "It's you I've been waiting for."

Hux's blinks when Ren just goes on staring at him without further explanation. "Waiting fo--  _Excuse_ me?"

"Like I told you," Ren speaks, looking down at his own hands and flexing his fingers, "when the lines of one's heart and career are intertwined, as yours are, each are strengthened by the connection. Your loved one will help you reach your highest ambitions." He holds up his hand, palm facing Hux. At first, Hux doesn't know what he's supposed to be looking at, but it soon dawns on him: Kylo's heart line intersects the line of his career path, slicing into it at the midway point and following it along downwards-- just as Hux's does. "Mine are the same."

A weight drops into Hux’s gut and he swears he can hear the increased pounding of his heart echoing in the room. "You're not seriously implying--"

"I am," Ren interrupts, fixing Hux with a mean glare. "Like you, I desire to stand at the head of the galaxy, as is my destiny, and I will do it with someone at my side."

"And by someone," Hux asks, pronouncing each word slowly and carefully, "you mean me?" 

"Our fates are connected."

Hux's mind races with this whirlwind of bizarre information. Emperor? Fates?  _Connected_? His gaze drops to his ungloved hand, turning it palm-up. His eyes trail over the creases in his skin, lingering on the thick one Ren had said was indicative of his analytical mind. No matter how interesting this proposal may be, Hux has been trained, conditioned from birth to analyze every possible ulterior motive or alternative solution. It is still very possible Kylo Ren is simply playing him, telling him exactly what he wants to hear in order to extort who only knows what from him. "And if I refuse?" He asks, curling his hand into a tight fist and snapping his eyes to meet Kylo Ren's, "what becomes of me, then?"

Ren's lips quirk. "You will be nothing without me," he snarls, then turns abruptly and marches back to behind the table, where he again drops to the floor, cross-legged. He puts his elbows on the glass tabletop, mouth resting on clenched fists, and scowls over at Hux, who didn't realize until now that he'd been backed up to the door.

Not wanting to risk a greater outburst, Hux keeps quiet, watching Ren's hunched shoulders rise and fall with his deep breaths. "I realize that these revelations may seem shocking to you," Ren starts in a low voice. "I must admit, when I read of this in my own fate lines, it angered me as well. I thought, with my powers, I ought to able to do it alone. But I know better now. I need someone who complements my talents with skills of their own."

"You can't do it without my help, either."

Ren breathes in slowly. Exhales. He gives Hux a level gaze. "No, I can't. We do it together, or not at all."

His tension slightly eases knowing that Ren needs him, too, and Hux watches one of the wall candles flicker as he considers his predicament. "So you're saying that we are meant to co-command the galaxy, and that you're my, what, exactly?" He pauses to scoff, "soulmate?"

"Something like that, yes."

Hux frowns, then finds himself regretting his lack of enthusiasm if indeed there is something to their synergy. He sets his gaze on Ren's face, which is again partially-obscured by his thick curls and hard to see clearly in this low lighting, but Hux would swear Ren's cheeks are flushed. He takes a moment, daring to imagine what it would be like to take Ren as a partner and finds that he is perhaps not as adverse as he might have guessed.

“And you don’t mind… that. Well.” Hux falters. “You are rather calm about this whole situation, given that we have just met.”

“With my gift of Visions, I have had time to come to terms with these truths,” Ren says. “So, no, I don’t mind. If you’re asking if I like you, no. I don’t. Not yet. But in time, I believe I will learn to. We are connected, you and I. You are a worthy match to my talent. Worthy of an Empire, even. An Empire I can give you, if you will join me.”

Hux wants to say something, anything, to re-establish a sense of normalcy, but this is all too much. Black magic mysteries aside, Hux has never been involved with anyone in anything other than a strictly-professional manner before, never even entertained the possibility of a love match for himself. He's well out of his depth. That Ren finds him a worthy partner is affecting him, though, strongly, and thus he stays quiet, feeling himself drawn to Ren's dark powers and willing to at least hear him out.

"Come, see." Ren motions for Hux to again join him on the floor before the small table. “I will show you.” Hux swears he's not telling his body to move, but still his legs are carrying him back to the short table where Kylo Ren is sat, watching him carefully. "I am curious," Ren says as Hux takes a seat. "To see the Vision now that I have the missing piece. Now that you’re here, I have a face to put to the mystery at last. Before, it was... incomplete."

He procures a large, clear orb and sets it on the table between them. "Give me your hands," he says.

Cautiously, Hux first peels off his other glove, buying himself some time to wonder just what exactly the fuck he’s getting himself into now, before holding out his hands. Ren’s hands are warm and welcoming when they take Hux’s and a small, inaudible gasp escapes his lips. He can feel Ren’s gaze upon him, but he doesn’t want to look up. He focuses instead on the cracked gemstone on Ren's right hand, which is glowing as if alive with energy as Ren places both their hands over the crystal ball.

"What? What is this?" Hux asks, startled when a mist rises and swirls within the crystal, demanding his full attention.

"Quiet."

Suddenly, an assault of Visions attack Hux's mind as he gazes into the crystal. He knows he's only watching it through this shimmering mist, but he feels as though he's directly inside the ball himself, so captivating and immersive is the projection.

He sees himself rising through the ranks, Kylo at his side, congratulating him on becoming General. Against a backdrop of stars, they are sharing a bottle of champagne and then, a kiss. Later, his own eyes are blazing with victory as a crimson laser fires into the sky. His heart stops when the next Vision shows Kylo lying beaten in the snow, and Hux himself rushing to his side. Then, he sees Kylo recovered, piloting a ship that Hux himself has designed, using his gift of the occult to traverse uncharted territory, on his way to vanquish the greatest of their enemies. He sees Kylo return, triumphant, to share his bed and their victory. He sees himself crowned Emperor, Kylo himself performing the ceremony.

The Visions fade just as quickly as they come. Hux is speechless, reeling. His hands have left the crystal and are clamped onto the edge of the table. His eyes are blown open and sweat trickles down his temple, but hope is surging up from deep within him. He doesn't know how or why he knows this, but he does: he knows this is all very attainable. That Kylo will help him get there. That he will help Kylo get there. He sensed the man's presence, and a growing affinity for him, in each of these flashes of Vision. In the last, their hands had been clasped together, fingers laced and squeezing the other's tightly as they stood shoulder to shoulder on a great podium overlooking the masses of the last planet to acquiesce to the might of the First Order.

"You..." Hux breathes quietly, still not daring to look up. "You can make this happen?"

"It comes at a price, Lieutenant."

After that brief taste of Emperor, his current title leaves a sour taste in Hux’s mouth. He refuses to go back to something as basic, as mundane, as easily attainable, as a military rank.

"Name it."

"You."

Hux meets his eyes then, unafraid. He’s seen it now, the future. His destiny. His… soulmate.

"Long have I waited to find the one whose hand belongs in mine," Ren says, giving Hux that imploring stare, a black fire smoldering in his dark eyes. "Will you give yourself to me?"

Hux wants to say yes. Wants to say yes once, here now, and then shout it again and again like he did in that Vision, as he offers himself as payment over and over for the rest of their lives. "If I am to give myself to you," Hux says instead, “then I shall receive you in kind.”

"Yes," Ren says and offers Hux his hand. "You shall." His eyes are pleading, the gemstone on his finger glowing brilliant red. "Emperor Hux?"

It has a nice ring to it.

"Master Ren."

Without further hesitation, Hux extends his left hand to meet Ren's. Ren takes it and turns their palms vertical, spreading his fingers to allow space for Hux’s to slip between. Hux squeezes Ren's hand with the softest pressure and Ren squeezes back harder.

Their fingers are laced, their fates are aligned.

The galaxy is theirs to take.

 

==


End file.
